


caught a long wind

by Anonymous



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: satsuki forgets things, sometimes.
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Momoi Satsuki
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous





	1. shades of cool

**Author's Note:**

> old a/n: i just want a reason to use “you sometimes forget that you’re extremely attractive like holy shit you’re so attractive and you do mundane things somehow really freaking attractively PLEASE STOP THAT”
> 
> part 1/2 of my self-indulgent “i forget that you’re extremely attractive sometimes” thing 
> 
> (this was posted once upon a time in a long-deactivated tumblr in 2015.)

Sometimes she forgets how, and when, Daiki and her starts. There’s a lot that she forgets: the first playdate their mothers arranged, when did they start knowing each other’s favorite meals and color, how did they start to obsess over basketball, when did they start going to each other’s houses regularly, since when did she start to drag him off his bed instead of waiting for his mother to do it, how did they come to this point. Things and memories pile up into a blur of routines. Unlike Daiki’s progresses in basketball, those cannot be observed and meticulously noted.

That’s why Satsuki tends to let her and her childhood friend’s relationship go over her head.

+

She’s on her way to his home, her 5-minutes early watch shows that it’s 07.08, and it’s sunny out. It’s Saturday, which means that Daiki will _not_ attend practice willingly, or alternatively, he will _not_ attend it on time. Satsuki isn’t angry; she isn’t miffed at the fact that she has to wake up Daiki personally; to her, it’s routine.

Daiki’s mom opens the door for her, clad in her apron, and after Satsuki gave her a proper greeting she goes past the Aomines’ dining room, where his father is hidden behind a newspaper. Satsuki greets him and continues—neither of her childhood friend’s parents asks her anything other than to get Daiki up and to have breakfast with them.

And as usual, her _Dai-chan, wake up, you have practice at eight_ goes to deaf ears. After gentle touches and shakes don’t work, she sighs—physical force is what she needs to wake up Dai-chan after all. Despite her being near him a lot, sometimes Satsuki forgets that Daiki is a teenage boy, an extremely athletic one, in fact, and her physical force—which includes a lot of pulling and hitting—doesn’t cut it.

He finally gets up, and that is because of her constant and annoying loud whispers to his ear (Satsuki knows he hates it the most, since he’s ticklish and there aren’t a lot of people who are capable of whispering to him, considering his height, so he isn’t used to whispers). Daiki gets up and lazily walks away to his bathroom while Satsuki waits and sneaks a nap herself.

+

She’s dreaming of her lighter days in middle school when the Daiki’s bathroom door slams open and Daiki, still wet, slightly steamy from the hot shower, smelling nice, and _only wrapped in his towel_ , steps out and calls her out.

“You wake up people so annoyingly and then you go and get some sleep yourself?”

Satsuki sits up and pouts. “I woke up way earlier than you do.”

Daiki snorts and goes across his room to his wardrobe. Satsuki blankly stares at his back—again, Satsuki is reminded that Daiki is _really_ athletic and proportionally built for a teenager. The water drops that trickle down his back and stays around his hair distract her. She blinks.

She’s too used of looking at Daiki’s body calculatedly—Seirin’s coach Riko-san dropped her a few tips to know how did someone’s training affect their body. It’s not like it’s a rare sight, seeing the boys in the team strip off their top after some particularly sweaty workout, but seeing Dai-chan’s back _without_ thinking about his progresses is a little different.

“Put on some clothes, Dai-chan, you pervert! I’m here!” She promptly shouts, barely thinking her words over. Daiki turns around slowly and raises an eyebrow. He’s holding the sleeveless tee he’s about to wear on his hand.

“I’m from the showers, stupid,” he says to her, shaking the tee for her to see, “who showers with clothes?”

And as she sees his _very_ topless and _very_ fresh front-side, Satsuki is reminded that Daiki’s _tall_ for his age and his race, _very_ athletic and built for a teenage boy, and that his shoulders are wide, in an oddly attracti—

 _No, nope_.

Satsuki is reminded; she forgets, sometimes, her friend Dai-chan is a still-growing teenage boy. Her stomach twists and her cheeks feel hot.

She tells Dai-chan to join her eat waffles at the Aomines’ dining room and bolts.

+

Satsuki used to keep an eye on Daiki’s face when he’s playing—a manifestation of her worry after what’s happened in the end of middle school. Nowadays that she can rest assured Daiki is no longer playing with a dead face, she tends to watch his technique.

She focuses on Daiki’s expression that day.

Satsuki likes watching Daiki’s explosive play, his agility, the way he overwhelms opponents on courts. There’s something—just _something_ that she can’t quite point out—about how he manages to look effortless, lazy, even, when playing, but also managing to keep his agility on check.

Satsuki likes how Daiki’s unpredictable movements are so _fluid_ and he makes it look like it’s so easy, having total control of the ball like that. She never tires of seeing him passing through his guard in such speed before stopping completely—so effortlessly, without losing his balance—in front of another defense to make his shoot. On rare days that Satsuki decides to simply watch him play instead of noting his every new movements and drives, she tends to be unable to keep her eye off of him.

There are two distinct moods when Daiki plays that she’s noted—his streetball and his zone. And both has a certain charm to it—something that reminds Satsuki that lazy, annoying, and stupid Dai-chan is another person on court. When Daiki is in the zone—rather rare, considering how hard it is to find an opponent resilient enough to get him into it—she sees total concentration, perfect control of the ball, and still, unpredictable, but _precise_ movements wrapped in fiery determination to win, to _overpower_ , to _win_. Daiki’s zone renders her breathless from her place by the sidelines.

But nothing beats the times when Daiki plays as if he’s in the streets, enjoying his every movements, taunting, teasing his opponents before driving past them to score a basket. It’s always fascinating, the way Dai-chan plays around with the ball, his footwork, and the opponent, as he does his crossovers. It’s always a sight, the way he plays with feeling, relying purely on his instincts and reflexes. But Satsuki’s favorite is when Daiki grins, satisfied and pleased, as he dunks and scores. She forgets how much Daiki loves basketball sometimes, and only in times like those that she’s reminded again.

It’s as if he’s reviving Satsuki’s memories of the pre-teen who’s just fallen in love for the first time.

When the team finishes and Daiki walks towards her with a grin plastered on his face, high from the endorphin, Satsuki ducks her head and blushes.

+

“You were great today,” she comments as they head home, “rare seeing you like that in practice, Dai-chan.”

Daiki stares at her and slowly grins. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging, “I mean, our guys aren’t as interesting as Tetsu and others, but Wakamatsu—he’s close to Bakagami.”

Satsuki smiles. “Mm,” she hums, “fun?”

“Yeah.”

The sky is getting red, ready for the sun to set. They had finished the practice by three, but they went to window-shop some shoes and eat first before getting home. Daiki slings an arm around her shoulders—it’s heavy, but Satsuki doesn’t mind—they have always been intrusive of each other’s personal space.

“Hey, Satsuki,” he says suddenly, in his usual, lazy drawl, “let’s get Tetsu and Bakagami to play. Kise too.”

Satsuki mentally replays Daiki’s dunks and drives and shoots she remembers most from the day’s practice and nods. “Yeah, it’s fun to watch you play like that,” she tells him and blushes from the implication, “and it’s been a while since I see Tetsu-kun.”

Daiki snorts and places her in a headlock for a couple of seconds. “Tetsu-kun, Tetsu-kun, Tetsu-kun,” he says, in a mocking tone, “When he plays with me Bakagami is going down.”

“But Dai-chan, what if Tetsu-kun’s playing against you?” Satsuki asks as she raises an eyebrow while elbowing him.

“Then your Tetsu-kun, Satsuki, is going down with Bakagami,” Daiki grins, confident and sure. Satsuki chuckles. She ignores the hammering in her chest as she remembers the way Dai-chan smiled after each impressive basket he made that day during practice—something that she’s not going to forget. Not anytime soon.

+


	2. you need a hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> being daiki is kinda suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> old a/n: (part 2/2 of my self-indulgent “i (you) forget that you’re extremely attractive sometimes” thing)
> 
> (this was posted once upon a time in a long-deactivated tumblr in 2015.)

Most of the time, the guys at school aren’t really interested in getting Daiki to hang with them—might be his intimidating presence, or maybe his crude behavior. Either way, he doesn’t really care. Though, he’s aware that some people question his preference to hang around Satsuki and only Satsuki.

(“I mean, Momoi-san is sweet and so nice. I’d have thought that guys like Aomine would hang around, man, I don’t know, involved in a gang, maybe?”

He literally _choked_ laughing.)

On the other hand, Daiki knows that people also wonder _why_ Satsuki, too, prefers to hang around him. He’s pretty much immune to the way people (guys, mostly) talk about how nice his childhood friend is, how smart, how pretty. How she’s too good for him and how it’s a relief that they’re simply friends instead of a couple.

He mostly doesn’t care.

Now what he cares about, is how naïve Satsuki is—how annoyingly gullible she is, how on earth does she not notice the guy chatting her up can’t keep his eyes on hers? And to think she gets all angry when he goes up to halt the conversation—what does she expect him to do? Keep back and watch as some loser openly ogle her in front of her face?

Despite it being uncharacteristic of him, Daiki worries sometimes.

+

In Touou, the basketball team has come to terms that Daiki and Satsuki are a package: mess with one and you have a problem with the other. It’s not like anyone has ever actually gotten into a trouble as such, but they have understood it enough to not disrespect their admittedly very cute and very nice and extremely valuable manager.

Also, to not flirt with her. Never. Ever.

Daiki is satisfied with this, though if possible, he’d prefer how things were in Teikou. In Teikou, the Generation of Miracles weren’t just a team, they were also a very close-knit group of friends. And even though Satsuki were the only girl in the group, Daiki can somehow relax, because the Miracles not only respected her, but also considered her as a friend. Which meant that they’d keep her out of trouble, unwanted attention, and annoying guys. Just like he did—does.

He finds consolation in the way Satsuki prefers to dress—modestly. Rarely, if ever, she goes to school not wearing a hoodie or a sweater a size or two too big for her, and Daiki is pleased with the fact that it saves her from the wandering eyes of teenage boys. What she sometimes forgets to calculate, is, that those eyes wander _further down_ , too.

+

He has a first-year guarding him, that day. Some overconfident little prick he can’t wait to crush. Lazily dribbling, Daiki works out a way to get to the three-point line, and plays a bit. The quite tall first-year looms in front of him, eyes determined. Daiki grins.

He drives past him easily—bouncing the ball away first before going around him and catching up to the ball. The first-year doesn’t give up and runs after him; Daiki’s running is far from his optimal speed but the new kid barely catches up. Daiki then stops suddenly and the kid falls down; momentum not quite contained to stop at the same time. Daiki makes a basket.

When they finish, the first-year has a sour and frustrated look on his face. Ball in hand, for the sake of courtesy, Daiki tells him, “If you’re going to guard me you’ll have to do better than that.”

He mumbles something inaudible as the team walk towards where Coach Harasawa and Satsuki are sitting. Huddled up, they either get their drinks or wipe their face with a towel or strip their shirt off to cool themselves. The coach stands up while Satsuki stays seated, focused in writing down notes of whatever stats she keeps track off. “Great work,” the coach says, “a lot of individual errors, but both team A and team B are quite good in syncing up. Team A is better; I guess it’s due to the fact that it has more seniors.”

The coach is going over each players’ playing when he notices that just like him, most of his teammates aren’t listening. Especially the first-years.

He doesn’t exactly care why—if they don’t listen, it’s their loss—and instead tries to peek on what Satsuki is working on. Then the coach finishes and they are dismissed. He sits beside Satsuki, gulping his water bottle empty and finally asks her. “What are you working at?”

“Stats,” she says curtly, “of all these first-years.”

“These first-years suck,” Daiki says, “and they’re moody.”

Satsuki snorts. “Like you’re not, Dai-chan.”

“But I’m good,” he shrugs, saying it as a matter-of-factly. He takes out his spare shirt and dries his sweat with a towel, while absently noting how slow the first-years are as they pack their things to leave. Most of the second and third-years have already gone to the lockers room.

That’s when he notices.

The first-year who guarded him—can’t be assed to know his name, maybe Tamaki? Tamago?—is staring at them. No, not _them_ , not him, but _Satsuki_. That’s when he _also_ notices that Satsuki’s hair is tied up, her legs are crossed, and her green hoodie is off. It _is_ hot and humid that day at the gym, but—

Irritated, Daiki stands up and blocks Satsuki from at least two staring first-years’ line of sight, and promptly took off his shirt, throwing it on her lap. Her reaction is predictable.

“Dai-chan _THIS IS SO GROSS_ why are you throwing your sweaty shirt at me—Dai— _AOMINE-KUN, EW._ ”

He flinches at her shrill shriek but ignores her still, opting to throw a nasty look at the first-years who immediately scrammed.

Maybe he should advise her to wear longer skirts.

+

It’s one thing dealing with guys at the school but it’s another thing when it’s at public place.

Most of the time when they go out together, Satsuki wears modest clothing—hoodies, cardigans, sweaters, and also jeans. But some days she’ll get funny ideas, usually when it involves trying to look good when they are going to meet with Tetsu. Not that he’s worried the guy would stare at her—the way to the meet-up is what he’s worried about.

And that Sunday, Satsuki arrives at his home to drag him to play some streetball with Tetsu, Kagami, Kise, Midorima and Takao, in a short-sleeved floral summer dress.

His mom compliments her and tells her that she is very pretty, but Daiki dreads it. And truly, the trip to the street court is hell. Daiki is on alert all the time, and people—girls, guys, and others—turn their heads to Satsuki. He has to suppress a groan as he remembers that one day he and Kise followed Satsuki and Tetsu’s “date”, and how many people actually chatted her up instead of just looking at her, considering how barely-noticed Kuroko was. He’s beginning to hate the dress as he keeps an eye on the guy sitting across them on the bullet train, who’s unable to get her eye off of her and evidently _loves it_ when Satsuki brushes her hair with her fingers.

Daiki is fuming.

“That creep keeps staring at you,” he says to her finally, cutting her mid-sentence as he takes off his jacket and throws it at her. Satsuki pouts—she’s been pushing him to give comments on the dress since she picked him up and she obviously thinks it suits her well, but she obliges and puts his jacket on nonetheless.

In actuality the dress isn’t bad. It’s dark navy blue with small, pink flowers printed all over; it’s not exactly revealing, not even sleeveless and it doesn’t go too high up her thighs, though it fits nicely on her. The dress is actually really pretty on her and it makes her look cute, and there lies Daiki’s problem.

He’s immediately relieved, though, as they arrived at the usual court—it’s tiring, trying to shoo people’s stares off with his own stare. Even he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he usually would be when Satsuki throws herself at Tetsu and showers him with her _Tetsu-kun_ s. Tetsu tells her she looks nice, and then come Takao and Midorima, and the former also openly compliments Satsuki on her look instead of staring.

It’s good until Kise comes.

“Momoicchi!” He chirps, looking at Satsuki up and down “you look so pretty!”

As Satsuki beams on the model Daiki laments on the fact that Kise just _has_ to bring that one Kaijo guy—Moriyama, he thinks, he’s not that good with names—who’s yet accustomed to Satsuki, who clearly turns into a _staring_ , blubbering mess. And since there are now seven players, Moriyama’s bound to sit out—bound to chat up and admire Satsuki all over. _He_ , on the other hand, is bound to be _distracted_.

Daiki thinks that his life consists of lots of suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new a/n: this was a test post to the anon collection i kinda wanna see how it worked and it turned out you cant, um, make a anon series because it showed up in dashboard lol so i made this multichaptered? anywayssss this is part 2 from shades of cool! also i know tamago is egg (?) its just daichan being an ass hahah

**Author's Note:**

> old a/n: (basically i headcanon that, while there are instances in which satsuki unconsciously thinks daichan is somewhat hot, satsuki’s major turn-on is his playing) (which means i ranted like god knows how many words about daichan’s basketball) (i thought i should give some fair warning)
> 
> new a/n: honestly? a test post to the anon collection,,,,,,,,


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